


Lavellan's Super Fun Happy Day Out

by composewithcolour



Series: Nobody Expects The.... [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/composewithcolour/pseuds/composewithcolour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellana Lavellan and the crew head out to Crestwood. Good thing the Inquisitors such a good sport about the weather, right? With tension growing between the Iron Bull and Ellana after an intimate encounter, they attempt to figure out what they really want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavellan's Super Fun Happy Day Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to Lavellan is Bored, although not necessary to read, it offers more detail. 
> 
> I've always been fascinated with the idea of the Iron Bull pining after the Inquisitor in a situation where he is not quick to jump into bed. What if circumstances lead to the Bull falling for her before sex even becomes an issue? (even if sex is definitely an issue).

Okay though, whose idea was it to go to Crestwood? Probably hers…but it was much easier to push the blame on to her companions and glare at them as if it was their fault.

The skies had opened, or perhaps they had never closed, over Crestwood, and the rain pelted down upon them, threatening to cut them straight through. Ellana’s armour felt heavier than ever. Never mind the ring armour she wore underneath, but the leather cuirass on top was shrinking slowly and pulling in tighter and tighter. Her masses of hair had been pulled into a tight plait, and wrapped around her neck just so she could wear her hood up. It didn’t help that her pointed, strangely horizontal; ears pushed the edges of the hood outwards.

Even at the camp she could barely see two feet in front of her, and apparently neither could her companions.

“ _Elf_ ,” she heard the Iron Bull’s voice through the roaring noise, “Do you want us to drown? Make a barrier or something.”

“It is raining, _Qunari_ ,” replied Solas, spitting out the name in a similar fashion, “perhaps you would like to sit in the tent where it’s warm and dry?”

“Inquisitor, shall we move onwards?” said Varric, ignoring their companion’s bickering. How long had they been in Crestwood? All of half an hour?

Ellana had to force herself to start walking forward. In all honesty, she had just been about to crawl back in a tent herself to wait for a break in the weather. Although according to Scout Harding the rain had been non-stop for months. She sniffed miserably, her hood doing little when the wind caught the rain.

She was feeling much better than before, but it seemed that she was never going to escape another cold. But at least she wouldn’t be the only one. Solas could quip all he wanted, but Iron Bull was the only one of them without headwear, no hood large enough to fit through his horns without poking a hole in it. He pushed forward however, head held high, and walking side by side next to her.

They’d barely begun when they came across the lake. Lavellan felt more than saw the flicker of light in her palm as she saw the green glow set out right in the centre.

“Maker’s balls,” said Varric.

“ _This_ was old Crestwood?” she squinted at the water. She didn’t even want to think what was still in there.

Iron Bull snorted, “I’m guessing it’s not New Crestwood, or they’ve been fucked over.”

The flicker of the anchor in her hand was becoming uncomfortable. They needed to get to that Fade Rift, “do we swim?” she asked, sceptically.

“Nuh uh. No thanks. Dwarves are not natural swimmers.”

“Nor the Qunari I would imagine,” said Solas.

“ _I can swim_. I don’t want to, though.”

Ellana turned on her heel and walked away from the lake continuing on their original path, “That’s our future selves’ problem. For now let’s find Hawke’s friend.”

As they walked along the dirt road, swathes of mud built up on her boots, the cold soaking through to her toes. Iron Bull still strode alongside her, slowing down to her awkward pace. Every now and again she would feel the back of his hand knock her arm. She risked looking up at him, the rain in her eyes, only to see him still looking forward, a small smirk on his face. Inwardly groaning, she pulled her hood closer around her face, very aware of her companions behind them. Her judgemental dwarf seemed none the wiser, perhaps more concerned about Bianca rusting in the rain, but she couldn’t help but feel Solas’ eyes on her back. Perhaps it would have been wiser to bring others, but Iron Bull and Solas had already been waiting for her, standing far apart in the main hall of Skyhold, whilst Varric had been an obvious choice, meeting Hawke and all.

They hadn’t talked since…since the game of Wicked Grace. Not seriously talked, just odd things in passing. On her part, she didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. She was worried what he would say, what it might lead to. _Coward,_ said her brain.

Thankfully, he wasn’t pushing anything. Perhaps it had something to do with Cassandra’s rage at discovering them, and the consequent shouting that could have been heard throughout Skyhold. Even if her untimely intrusion had left Ellana feeling frustrated to no end, another part of her was glad. A small tiny part. It was easier to pretend like nothing had happened when they hadn’t had to face each other afterwards.

It wasn’t just the Iron Bull that Cassandra had had a word with.

Her imagination was having a hard time letting go however. She could still imagine his lips on her neck, his hands on her breasts, the tension building between her legs as she pressed against him…

 _SMACK!_ Lavellan rebounded off of something hard and was thrown back against Solas, who deftly caught her.

She blinked in confusion, her mind being pulled back to focus, “Creators! I’m so sorry!” she cried at the Grey Warden she had just walked in to. She took in their uniforms, suddenly considering what their presence meant for Hawke’s Warden Friend.

“Do not think on it,” was the Warden’s curt reply and he turned away to his brother in arms who was currently helping a young elven woman up from the floor.

Ellana cleared her throat, hands on her hips, “are…are you Grey Wardens?” she asked her voice notably shaking. Varric groaned and she could feel Iron Bull’s eyes on her. It always seemed to be the collective reaction whenever she attempted to lie or play ignorant. Was she so obvious?

The warden simply looked at her and frowned, “yes?”

“Ah. Thought so. The…uniform, I’ve seen it before,” _don’t ask me where, don’t ask me where._ Why did she have to say that? How is that going to sound?

“Indeed,” the two wardens looked at each other, “where to?”

Ellana felt Solas turn away from her as if watching was too painful.

“We come from Kirkwall,” said Varric pushing forward, taking pity on the poor shaking elf, a comforting hand on her arm, “we crossed paths with the Grey Wardens during the siege.”

“Kirkwall? I am sorry for what happened there,” said one of the wardens, the suspicion almost immediately gone from their faces. Ellana pouted at the response. Like she couldn’t have handled it herself…

“Aren’t we all.” said Varric with a strained look.

“Crestwood must be glad to have you here,” Solas spoke up, his voice stiffer than usual.

“We are not staying,” said the Warden, “our duty calls us elsewhere. We wish you the best,” and without looking back they moved on past them.

“Ugh! Bastards!” Ellana cried as soon as they were out of earshot. Sure, their duties calls them out on a man hunt for a Warden, but actually help people who need them? Ridiculous! “Only bloody useful when there’s a Blight, and then they do sod all the rest of the time!”

“My sentiments exactly,” said Solas moving to her side, “shall we?”

They reached the town on their way. They weren’t exactly surprised by the shades at the gates, not with the great rift in the middle of the lake, but they still sent shivers down her spine all the same. Her skill with magic was limited, extremely so in fact. She hadn’t come to any ability until quite a bit later than was natural for a mage, and then it came out with a vengeance in random spurts and drabs, and in the form of pure electricity. She barely had any control over it, except a precision when it came to static shocks. Generally she was best at keep a static shield around herself, so if anything tried to attack her, they were simply thrown back off. Other than that, she usually waited fights out, rather than risk shocking her companions rather than her enemies. At least the anchor gave her some use in the field. Sometimes she felt bad about how little she could do to help…and then she remembered how freaking terrifying demons were and she was quite happy to sit back and watch.

Plus it gave her a reason to watch the others. Iron Bull was a monster in battle, swinging around his great axe like it only weighed a couple pounds, and charging through the enemies as if he was invincible. Sometimes she believed he might just be. Varric usually stayed by her side, his skill with Bianca fascinating as if he and the crossbow were one. Plus he was good with the odd one-liner too. Solas was different all together. With her pitiful attempts at magic, watching a true mage (albeit a hedge one…whatever that was supposed to mean) was an experience all in itself. His connection to the fade was extraordinary and from no matter where he stood on the field, she could feel the touch of his magic like a caress against her skin. He pushed and pulled the elements, like he commanded them.

The battle didn’t last long however, and they were in the Mayor’s home before they knew it.

Ellana whimpered at the sight of the open hearth, and whilst the Mayor spoke to them she edged closer and closer to the fire’s warmth. She barely heard a word he said.

“We better move on, sweetheart,” said Varric just as she was about to pull off her boots.

She moaned in protest, “I was thinking we could camp in the town for the night.”

“It’s barely noon,” Iron Bull crossed his arms.

“Exactly, so we don’t want to push it right? But good job today, guys,” she sat down in front of the fire, tugging at her laces.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

Iron Bull had suddenly lifted her up off the ground and was making for the door. The Mayor watched them with a disapproving glare. Perhaps he had expected more from the Inquisition.

“HEY! Put me down!” Ellana yelled, struggling in the Iron Bull’s arms, “I am the Inquisitor! I _demand_ you put me down!”

Varric chuckled, “one day, you will pull rank and it will actually mean something.”

 

 

 

When they were trekking along the Rocky Slope later that day, Ellana made sure everyone knew just how much she hated being there. She swore vividly as she tripped over rocks, began to make crude rhymes about each of her companions and glared at them anytime they so much as looked her way.

“If only Corypheus could see our Inquisitor now,” Solas muttered under his breath only to flinch as Ellana turned on her heel to look at him.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” She huffed.

“That you are as graceful and daring as ever. A threat to him if ever you were,” answered Solas smoothly walking straight past her.

 She cocked her head and smiled. _Damn straight!_ She followed after him, her mood having switched in an instant.

“Huh. Perhaps Chuckles has more skills than we give him credit for,” said Varric, observing the sudden glower the Iron Bull was giving Solas’ back. The giant Qunari jogged forward and offered Inquisitor Lavellan his hand. She was shocked for a moment, too many thoughts pulsing through her at the sight of that hand, before she took it and allowed him to swing her onto his back. She was a lot more cheerful after that.

 

Hawke was waiting for them at the cave entrance when they arrived. Ellana had to admire the way Varric lit up every time he was near his old friend. She could only hope he would feel like that for her one day. Maybe if she stopped complaining so much.

“He’s just inside. I’m glad you made it in one piece,” said Hawke with an appraising look at the exhaustion on all their faces. What could she say? Ellana hated the rain.

They followed Hawke into the cave, Varric informing her about the Grey Wardens scouting the wilderness. They walked through a makeshift wooden door into an oddly homely living space. She wondered how long the Warden had been living here for.

“This is Stroud,”

Ellana looked up at the warden and immediately narrowed her eyes. That was the most ridiculous moustache she had ever seen, nothing like Dorian’s (which was slowly growing back). It was so weird to see so much facial hair everywhere, even the human men that shaved had stubble, never mind the Dwarves. Elven men, as far as she could tell were smooth all over. She glanced at Solas a slight blush in her cheeks. Well…he had even less hair than most. Not that she minded.

Varric moved forward and shook Stroud’s hand, and for that she was glad. She still wasn’t used to shaking people’s hands, and the entire diplomatic side of being the Inquisitor simply didn’t suit her. Half of what the others talked about simply washed over her.

It wasn’t until they were sat around the campfire later that her companions broke down the meeting to her. Solas and Varric spoke to her as an adult, as an equal, compared to the few times she’d brought Vivienne along and Ellana had nearly throttled her and her condescending voice.

There was nothing wrong with her intelligence, but the more time she spent away from her clan, the more she realised she knew so little about the world around her. She’d heard of the Blight, of course she had, but the intricate details, and the actually role of the Wardens themselves were little known to her.

The camp itself was rudimentary, having set up inside a local cave rather than brave the storm. It was quite cosy once the spiders had been cleared out, and the distant roar of rain, was almost comforting when you weren’t actually in it.

“So the Wardens…they’re hearing the Calling, and that’s not good,” Ellana tried to sum up their discussion.

“It’s either throwing themselves into the Deep Roads, or they’re trying something else…and it’s the something else we should be worried about,” Varric took a swig from a flask he’d fished out of his wet boots sometime earlier.

“Could Corypheus be tricking them? Making them think they’re hearing the Calling?”

“It’s a possibility, Lethallin. Although it changes very little whether they only believe they’re hearing it, or if they actually are. It is up to the wardens how they react, and they appear to be reacting badly,” said Solas.

“Ugh,” Ellana flopped back onto the floor of the cave, her arms over her eyes. As if the Breach and Corypheus wasn’t bad enough. Every time she solved a problem another seemed to arise to bite her on the arse.

“Well,” said Varric, “it’s a problem for later in any case. For now we need to deal with the Rift in the lake.”

“Hm, I was thinking we just throw the Inquisitor as hard as we can into the lake, and the anchor should do the rest,” came the Iron Bull’s booming voice.

Ellana sat up, slapping the Iron Bull’s arm, although it didn’t little to move the smug grin on his face.

 

 

 

 

It was hard to tell in the cave whether it was late at night or early morning. To the Iron Bull it made little difference as he sat in the dark, watching over his companions whilst they slept. He sat cross-legged, drawing idly in the dirt before him, his one eye searching for any trace of movement in the shadows around them. Well at least that was what he was supposed to be doing.

Every time his eye travelled through the cave, it would be drawn automatically to the inquisitor’s sleeping form beside him. _Just as she should be._

And every time that thought passed through his mind, he would force himself to look away.

What they’d had, that small amount of time alone together in the tavern…the memory of it wouldn’t leave him. It wasn’t even about that. The feel of her on top of him, her soft skin beneath his lips, her small hands holding onto him like she was afraid to let go…it was all he’d wanted since she’d stood in front of him at the Storm Coast, her hair floating with the static, and a fierce look in her eye daring him to look down at her. But it wasn’t about that.

When had it not become about sex? And they had barely done anything yet; he hadn’t even been able to kiss her. Of course, the thought was on his mind, he wanted little else. But there _was_ something else.

When they’d been in Haven he’d slept with half the maids and soldiers he’d come across, anything to get the pent up feeling out of his system, but it wasn’t enough.

Ellana hummed in her sleep, turning over so she was facing him, her eyes still closed.

The Iron Bull watched her for a minute before realising he was doing it again. _You damn fool._

The Qunari love their friends, but they don’t have sex with them. They don’t love those they sleep with, or those they want to sleep with. They don’t get married, they don’t have kids for a family, they don’t think about you in the midst of battle, or when lying awake in bed.

The Qunari _don’t._

They hadn’t even had sex.

But it wasn’t sex that he wanted.

 

 

 

Ellana awoke slowly, aware that it had to still be night, the darkness covering her as it did. She blinked as the embers from the fire brought the cave to life around her. She almost shrieked as she saw the giant shadow that was the Iron Bull. It still surprised her just how large he actually was. But he was just sat beside her, now looking at her as she contained her initial panic.

“Is it morning yet?” she asked groggily, the words getting stuck in her throat.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” the Iron Bull answered but his smile seemed stunted.

She sat up straight, her mass of hair knotted beyond comprehension and seemingly with a life of its own. Solas and Varric were still asleep, Solas most likely somewhere deep within the fade, whilst Varric was simply out of it. Ellana couldn’t imagine not being able to dream.

She wondered what the Iron Bull dreamt about.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly so as not to disturb the others.

“Yeah.”

She pressed her lips together, “I’m not.”

He looked at her fully then, before grabbing her arm, and pulling her away down the cave away from the others.

A moment of panic fled through her, wondering if he meant to continue what they’d started before, but he only stopped and looked at her.

“You regret it,” he said simply.

“What! I…no, I don’t it’s just…” She turned her face away, hiding the blush that had filled her cheeks.

“Boss, you could never be a Ben-Hassrath.”

_Boss? Since when had she gone back to being Boss?_

“Well I have no desire to be good at lying anyway,” she said with a sniff, but when she met his eye, she felt her stomach drop, “…Cassandra came to my quarters.”

The Iron Bull nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the cave wall.

When it was apparent he had nothing to say, she carried on, “She said that…I’m not a person anymore. Not in the public eye…I’m a representation of the Inquisition, and I have to realise that my decisions have consequences. I was going to tell her to go stuff it…but…”

Silence.

“But she told me to consider what I actually wanted, and that a flippant inquisitor who was having flings with a...” she swallowed, “…with a Qunari…would likely ruin our chances of negotiation with other diplomats. And I said that it didn’t matter to me! I mean I’m a Dalish Mage…I’m hardly on anyone’s good side anyway…”

“…But?” the syllable was sharp and short. Ellana was expecting anger in his features, but he simply seemed to be waiting for something.

“She’s right isn’t she? Not about all that…but…you told me when I first spoke to you in Haven…the Qunari…they don’t have relationships…it doesn’t mean anything to you. And…I’ve never been with anyone…and it just seems that I’d be risking a lot, for something that in the end…doesn’t even matter to you,” she paused, “…even if it mattered to me.”

“ _Ellana.._ ,” the Iron Bull breathed her name, but nothing came after it.

She looked up at him, “am I wrong?”

Ellana didn’t know what she expected, but for him to turn away and begin walking back to the others wasn’t it.

“No,” she heard him say, “you’re not wrong.”

 

 

 

“Have I ever mentioned that I don’t like caves?” said Varric that next morning as they wandered into the flooded depths of the system of tunnels that ran beneath Crestwood.

“You know, I do think you have mentioned it once or twice,” Ellana said quietly, her voice a lot calmer than she felt. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like the dark, as much as not being able to tell what lurked in the dark. It didn’t help that the dead kept rising around every corner.

Varric didn’t seem to mind that she had a firm grip on his arm, walking just slightly behind him. Solas took the lead, torch in hand. The Iron Bull took the rear. There was a distance between them all, except for Ellana clinging to Varric for dear life, although no one questioned the arrangement.

She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. There was an uncomfortable stirring in her chest at the thought of what had been spoken the night before. She didn’t know where they stood anymore. She didn’t know what she had expected.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Varric whispered to her.

“Ecstatic,”

He chuckled lightly, “yeah, I thought so.”

The caves themselves only got worse as they descended. Corpses clawed their way out of the ground, letters were left detailing how they were locked in when they developed the plague, and demons seemed to appear out of nowhere drawn by the horrors left below the surface.

Ellana felt sick to her stomach, her body trembling as she pulled out a child’s doll from beneath the remains of a makeshift bed. Her cheeks were wet, although she couldn’t remember crying.

For a moment, the Iron Bull hovered by her, perhaps trying to make eye contact or to put a hand on her shoulder, but when she turned on her heel and walked after Solas, he simply fell behind again.

After a while the walls became more chiselled, smoother almost golden in colour.

Varric made an irritable noise in the back of his throat, “Dwarves,” he said quietly as if he worried of other dwarves pouring out of the walls.

“Ruins it would seem,” said Solas, the usual curious glint in his eyes.

Ellana looked down at Varric, “anyone would think you didn’t like other dwarves,”

“I like Dwarves just fine. It’s the ones underground that bother me; self-righteous pricks.”

“You get the same thing with elves,” said Ellana, raising her eyebrows innocently as Solas glanced back at her.

They were heading down a corridor, when there was a crackle in the air as the anchor burst into life. Ellana yelped staggering, as the pull tore at her hand, the searing magic fizzling through her flesh. The anchor was often uncomfortable, but she had yet to mention just how painful it was when it awoke. The rift nearby was incredibly large, and she could feel its strength in waves that ricocheted up her arm.

The Iron Bull made a grunt as she fell and ran to support her. She panted heavily, leaning into his support as he lifted her squarely onto her feet. His eye watched her carefully, not giving away anything beneath. In between breaths she gave him a small smile in thanks. Why was it so painful just to meet his eye?

As a group they turned the corner and saw the glowing rift at the bottom of the stairs, demons already surging towards them. Her companions immediately flung into action. Ellana felt her body tighten as a barrier appeared around her, just as her own version of the static cage encapsulated her body. The Iron Bull charged with fervour, a wild look in his eye. She wished she could enjoy fighting as much as him. For her, every fight just left her feeling even more powerless.

The second wave of demons fell, and for a moment they all relaxed. Ellana lifted her hand towards the rift, and yelped as a pressure simply nudged her hand away. The Rift flared again, spewing out yet more demons. Never had she seen a rift last so long before.

Fear demons clawed their way out of the ground, sending her already tired companions back into the fray. She lost sight of Varric around one of the pillars, and moved to try and catch sight of him, only for a sharp hand to close around her ankle.

She tripped, smacking the ground hard, her static cage disappearing in a heartbeat. Her cheekbone was fractured, blood dripping from a cut lip. Her stomach leapt into her throat as she flipped onto her back to see the fear demon pull itself out of the ground, its gaping jaw already opening to let rip its banshee scream.

“ _Ellana_!”

Her name was yelled from across the room, although in the moment she couldn’t tell from whom it was coming.

The Fear Demon’s scream fell upon her and she felt it push down, holding her to the ground, draining the energy from her body.

It was only in instinct that she managed to raise a hand and summon the power she so rarely called upon. A bolt of lightning shot down through the hole in the ceiling, striking the Fear Demon and paralysing it where it stood. Its grip on her diminished, she twisted upwards, swinging her staff over her head, sending a cascade of electricity directly at the monster.

She breathed heavily as the demon deteriorated into shreds absorbed back into the light of the rift.

Feeling the familiar tug on her hand, she lifted her hand to the rift, and the anchor did the rest. The steady pain that had been with her throughout the battle, faded from her hand, only its slight itch left to remind her of the anchor’s presence.

Suddenly she was hit was a massive force, as she was lifted up off her feet and swung around in the air.

“You killed a _fucking_ Fear Demon!” The Iron Bull’s booming voice pulsed through her skin, a triumphant light in his eye and his teeth gleaming in a wide smile. She laughed, freer than she had felt in days. It was exhilarating, his large hands holding her tiny frame and lifting her in great arcs around him.

 It was only a fear demon. The others had faced many and more themselves. But it was the first time she had rose to defend herself…and actually succeeded.

The Iron Bull set her down on her feet, her head spinning with giddy laughter.

And then he kissed her.

She gasped, caught off guard, as the giant pressed his lips firmly against her own. He was hunched over, her chin tilted up, their height difference both very much apparent and very much ignored. The world around them lay forgotten. The freezing cold knee high water was forgotten. Their two companions were completely and utterly forgotten. She melted into him, her lips going soft, allowing him to sculpt them with his own.

It was too chaste, and all too quick, but still desperate in its nature, their bodies pressed together where possible, a hand on her waist.

Just as suddenly he pulled back from her. He was flustered, a word she wouldn’t usually pair with the Iron Bull, but a look she had seen on him a few too many times.

Ellana’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but she found herself dumbstruck.

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, his Ben-Hassrath mask back on, “just needed to know.”

She blinked at him, the pounding in her chest fading.

“…right.”

There was a silence between them.

“So…we’re alright?” he asked.

A drip from the ceiling trickled down face, waking her up as if from a deep sleep. Her cheek ached, her lips were swollen, even worse so than had it just been from the fall. Had she tasted of blood? She could see his words for what they were - a way out, a life line from the awkwardness that had developed between them. A vow to pretend nothing had happened…even if everything was worse than before.

Or perhaps it could be better? Not a way out but a ‘let’s see what happens next, whatever the consequences’, a promise of a chance, if nothing else.

Who thought anything through anyway?

Life was a lot more interesting if you left it up to chance.

 


End file.
